Cherry Lipstick
by theDarkIsRising
Summary: The War is over and Voldemort reigns. Hermione is now one of his assassins, taking out any resistance. Her latest job is to kill the underground leader, The Professor. A personal hit indeed for the infallible Phoenix.
1. Rogue Rouge

kiss me with your cherry lipstick  
never wash you off my face  
hit me, I can take your cheap shot  
leave you with the love we made

_Night Drive_ – Jimmy Eat World

London

"Looking pretty hot today, Granger," said the man leaning on her doorframe. "How about a 'hello' for your favorite Death Eater." He grinned confidently.

She looked up at his suggestive leer and vowed she would get to wipe that off when he had outlived his uses. Until then, she could only threaten and sneer back. Boss's orders. "Hello, Carlson," she replied indifferently then returned to the contraption on the table.

Carlson sidled up on the edge of the table and sat. Leaning down, he said, "Now you know what kind of 'hello' I really mean." The ridiculous cocky grin still hung on his face.

"Oh that kind," she appeared to look innocently at him. "Well, just let me freshen up and I'll get right on that." Out of a small bag that sat next to her, she pulled a tube of lipstick, took off the lid, and then slowly rotated it to reveal a vivid red shade.

One glimpse of the cherry color and his grin evaporated. Nervously, he laughed and moved off the table. "Naw, I think I'll pass this time. I was just kidding any way, Granger, pulling your leg."

"That's what I thought." She put the tube back in the black bag. Looking at him again, she gave him a hard look and asked, "Why are you actually here, Carlson? Surely, you don't enjoy making an arse of yourself."

"Flint needs to see you. Master has sent down some order for you. Said you needed to get there ASAP." He stood at attention now, all business.

"He knows it's my week off, right?"

Carlson shrugged. "It sounded important to me. Don't blame the messenger."

She sighed and stood up, grabbing her bag. "Take this," she pointed to the metal thing on the table, "back down to storage. I'll work on it when I get back. Just put your hand in the middle, not the edges to carry it." She stopped at the door to look back at him. "And the next message you bring me, don't waste my time like you did just now." With that, she swept out into the hall. Half way down to Flint's door, she heard a scream and a flurry of curses. People were rushing to the room she had just left. Muggle bear trap. Smirking, she entered the brightly lit, briefing room.

"You know this is my week off," she said the instant she sat down.

The man across the table wore black robes like the rest of the Death Eaters scurrying around the building. Unlike them, she wore red robes. They had to be earned with more than a little initiation ceremony and a quick tattoo job on the upper arm. Wearing the robes of an assassin took bodies, piles of them.

He nodded. "I know, but we've had a new development. One that takes your special touch." Pulling out a folder, he slid it over to her. "One of the underground leaders has resurfaced in Scotland. He's known on their circuits as The Professor and he's been a royal pain in the arse. We think he's been in France or Spain, but we can't be for sure since he'd dropped off the grid. What you have is the recon we've been able to get out of Edinburgh about the situation."

Reaching over, he flipped over the first few typed pages to get to some slightly fuzzy photos. "I daresay you'll have no trouble recognizing him. You two have a bit of a history." He pushed the pictures closer to her.

She studied them stolidly before pushing them back across the table. "I'll make you history if you don't speed this up. I have other things to do."

Flint, though technically higher up than she was, began to sweat under her gaze. "In three days, he's planned to meet a former Death Eater, Irina Burch, to acquire information on this building. Foolish, it's completely impenetrable…" He trailed off as she gave him a withering look. "But anyway, you need to take out the contact, take her spot in the handoff, get what you can out of him, then take him out. Simple as that. A backup team will accompany you at a distance of course."

Leaning back in her chair, she looked up at the ceiling and muttered, "He doesn't think I'll actually do it."

The blonde man cleared his throat and shuffled through the papers some more. He pulled out an aerial photograph and a detailed map. "Irina is staying here." Pointing to a square building, he then traced the finger to the other map and pointed it out. "Third floor, room 12. Through our source, we know they've arranged for a clean drop in the alley a block down." Again, he jabbed a finger at the two papers. "No wands or even goons…"

"Guns," she corrected automatically.

"Right, guns," he repeated. "You won't be able to get past the barrier set up carrying anything magical and some sort of metal detecting spell is up also. Irina could only get through all that with the papers. So, you're going to have to do this the hard way. I'm sure you'll use your imagination. Any questions?"

"Do I have to have the backup? How close are they going to be? I don't need some little overexcited boys bursting in and messing this up," she replied coolly.

He tried to smile reassuring, mostly to himself she guessed. "It's just standard procedure. They'll be at a reasonable distance and won't come in until the call is given."

"Standard procedure my ass," she shot back, anger creeping in. "He's done this before when I had to get Longbottom and just last month when I took care of the Creevey brothers. No other times."

"I'm only passing along what the Dark Lord said," he answered. His eyes catch sight of the thin scar on her collarbone and the way it snaked down from her neck and disappeared into her robes. Rumors abounded about its origin. Some said she got it in a fight with Voldemort himself, while others scoffed and said it was only from a hit gone badly. The scar was stark white, an indication of her anger.

"Just give me the file." She snatched it from beneath his fingers and stood. "Tell him I need to speak with him after I'm done with this." She held up the folder for emphasis. "I've got a few bones to pick."

Flint had gone pale. "Me?" he inquired squeakily. "Do you want me to use those exact words?" It appeared that she did since she had already left and slammed the door.

Edinburgh – Apartment Complex 

Night had fallen upon the inconspicuous street and houses lining it; the air from the open window was cool. She could only laugh inwardly at Irina's own stupidity at leaving her apartment window open. It had made the job that much easier. Irina was not home yet. From the file, she knew that the traitor was very punctually home every evening at seven o'clock. At the moment, it was 6:57. She had only to wait.

The click of a lock turning caused her to sit straight up in the chair she was in. Light from the hall illuminated the outline of a woman before she peered down the hall both ways and shut the door. A few more steps and Irina would be in line perfectly for her. The woman walked forward a bit and reached for the light switch, but a voice caused her to freeze.

"Hello, Irina. Long time no see."

She quickly reached into her handbag; however, the person sitting in her armchair already had her wand poised. Irina fell stiffly over with the soft utter of the Body-Bind curse. She could only stare up in terror as a familiar face loomed over her.

"What am I to do with you? Kill you?" The woman in the black attire paused to smile as the other's terror intensified. "Well…yes, but not quite yet. I need a few of these," she plucked out a few of Irina's black hairs from her head then put them in a flask, "and…I guess that's it." She smiled down as the woman on the floor started to whimper.

Swirling the flask around, she crouched down next to her. She uncorked it and took a swig of the contents. Shuddering as it went down, her features slowly melted away to take on a different appearance. Two Irina Burchs were now in the apartment. "How do I look?" she asked with grin. A snivel was her answer.

"Can't leave you like this." She pointed her wand directly at the woman who now had tears streaming down her face. "Don't worry. You won't feel a thing, but don't take my word for it, I've never died." A green light filled the room. A woman dressed in black left room 12 as she put a tube of lipstick back in her purse and rubbed her newly red lips together.

Edinburgh – Alley 

Again, she was waiting. Her bag with her wand and other important items had been dropped off with the idiots sent along as backup. Now she stood in a darkened alleyway with only a blinking streetlamp to go by. None of the people who walked past on the outer street showed any concern for her. Save one and he was just approaching. It was about time; her Polyjuice was nearly gone.

Cautiously, he stood back in the shadows from her. "Do you have it with you?" was all he said.

She nodded stiffly and said in a voice that was not hers, "Yeah…right over here." She motioned farther back into the alley.

He hesitated before following her. Soon his eagerness got the better of him and he stood right next to her. With surprising speed, she landed an elbow into his side and grabbed an arm. Roughly, she shoved him against the wall and held him there. He had lost some of his awareness since they had last met.

She could hear him breathing heavily against the rough stone wall, which made her tighten her hold. What right did he have to be tired? "Let's clear things up first," she said into his ear. "Are you The Professor?"

He did not reply which was not all too surprising. She had dealt with situations like this before. _Crucio_ was highly effective.

Twisting his arm more, she said, "I'll ask again and refrain from smashing your face in the wall. Are you The Professor?"

"No idea what you're talking about," he replied gruffly.

She laughed bitterly. "Really? Well this wouldn't be the first time you've lied to me, is it, Remus?"

His face, though shadowed, turned to confusion. "Who are you?"

"Just like the one you told me as I laid next to a few corpses, bleeding to death on the battlefield. Remember you said you loved me and you'd come back for me. Right now would make the first time I've seen you since then. The Iberian peninsula must be pretty this time of year." She swung him around to face her and placed an arm at his throat. Her Polyjuice was gone and he knew who she was now. How she hated the look of pity and even how a softened look crossed his face. How dare he even think of feeling sympathy for her.

"Hermione…" he breathed out.

"Still sharp as ever," she shot back.

He looked on at her in disbelief. His eyes were shining. She did not need his tears. He said, raspy due to her arm, "They said you'd died. But…how…" He reached out a hand to touch her, but she pinioned it to the wall.

"Don't you touch me."

"I couldn't find you. I came back, but you weren't there and no one knew…" He trailed off.

She uttered low, "Apparently you didn't look hard enough." Then she brought him back and slammed him into the wall, watching as he fell back down onto the concrete. As he moved to get up, she kicked him in the stomach. He rolled over, groaning. She stooped down at his side.

"Come on, Remus. Fight back. Do you have a problem hitting your fiancée? You sure as hell didn't have a problem leaving me to die." She pulled back her fist for another punch. His hand caught it and stopped it.

"I didn't leave you to die," he whispered. "I was captured and by the time I was able to escape, Voldemort had already been through Hogwarts. I could only assume the worst and everyone's accounts all pointed to the fact that you died. Don't you know I would have done anything to get you back if I knew?"

She landed a surprise punch with her other hand and grabbed him by the shirt collar. "I was captured too. Funny how we didn't cross paths. You would have done anything. Would you have dragged me back from Hell? Well, it's too late for that because I've already been there." Releasing him, she stood up and watched him slowly get up from the ground. Dirty half-breeds always seemed to heal faster.

"God, Hermione, what did he do to you?" asked Remus. He wiped a trail of blood from his mouth as he moved in closer to her.

Laughing acrimoniously, she said, "You're the first person to call me Hermione since I had to pay a visit to Longbottom. Although he was saying it more pleadingly." She mimicked a falsetto cry for help. "There is no Hermione left, Remus. She died on that battlefield and I am all that's left."

"Neville Longbottom?" he echoed. "Don't tell me you were the one…"

She pursed her lips together. "Fine then. I won't. Stop kidding yourself, Remus."

"You're not…you don't…please, Hermione, tell me you don't work for him." She almost thought his voice started to break. Good…good.

"You think I've kept myself alive by doing housework for him? And don't call me Hermione! I told you she's dead and good riddance to her. She was a stupid, little schoolgirl who believed in you. She died and from her ashes came me." She grinned shakily and swept her arms up as in presentation. "Bet your glad you stayed away now, aren't you?"

Tentatively, he reached out his hand again and traced her face.

"Don't," she whispered. He still felt the same as the last time he had done that to her. But that seemed ages ago, a different lifetime.

"Come with me. Don't go back to him," he said, so close to her now. "We have a movement now and we can fight him. Please, we can be together again. There's hope again to stop this evil monster."

She leaned forward and stopped. Such words would have been a godsend a few years back when she cared, when she felt. No more. Closing her eyes, she captured his lips in a kiss. He broke off, looking down stunned and relieved. "Is that a yes?" he asked.

"There's no hope, Remus, and there's no evil or good for that matter. Just survival and I'm surviving. Do one thing for me though; say hi to the Creeveys for me. I'm afraid they departed before I had the chance."

He just stared down at her as if seeing her for the first time. "You," he said and touched his lips, now tinted crimson. "You killed them. Your…your…" Suddenly he convulsed and fell down to his knees, shaking.

She dropped down, too and grasped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "That's right. The Phoenix. She rides again tonight for another notch in her belt. I killed the Creeveys. I captured Longbottom and tortured him to insanity. Don't you get it, Remus?" His eyes were starting to glaze over and his mouth slipped now and then. "Do you like my metaphor? I'm a phoenix from the ashes, a new life from an old."

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only a stream of blood came out. Already he was slipping away. Gently, she placed her kill mark on him. She kissed his cheek leaving a scarlet lip print that soon started to welt up due to the poison. His body slumped forward on to her and involuntarily she found herself holding him. A scurrying behind her forced her to push him off and turn around.

Her backup had prematurely showed up. The three of them stood on the outside of the alley, the magical barrier keeping them and their wands out. Slowly she made her way to them. Out of her back pocket, she took out a handkerchief and wiped off the remnants of the lipstick. She threw it at the shortest of the trio who caught it nervously before dropping it, realizing what was on it.

"Give me my bag," she ordered. Promptly, it was handed over. She removed her wand from the inside. They stood watching her. "Go check, so you can tell your stupid Lord you saw the body. I wouldn't want one of my kills doubted."

As they stalked off and hovered over the limp form in the alley, she pointed her wand at the sky above. She uttered an incantation softly. A ribbon of red burst from the end. It began to form a shape in the sky. Soon, a scarlet skull hung, twinkling over the alleyway, and it had a flaming bird emerging from his mouth. She did not hear the screams that erupted as residents pointed to the heavens. Only a stained red white handkerchief blowing down the street betrayed she had stood there.


	2. From Russia With Love

**AN:** Slight references to HBP, but I've tried not to be specific. This is for the wonderful reviewers who asked for more.

At the end of the world  
Or the last thing I see  
You are never coming home  
Could I? Should I?  
And all the wounds  
That are never gonna scar me  
And all the ghosts  
That are never gonna catch me  
If I fall down

_The Ghost of You_ – My Chemical Romance

**London**

"Leave me," she commanded. The young Death Eater still hung close by. "I said to leave." He noticed her hand resting on her wand, and then quickly chose to back out the door and tried to calmly walk up the stairs. Her eyes followed him, making sure he had truly left before entering the cell on her right.

The windowless room was dark and dank. No prisoners were currently being held in it and she was thankful for that. What she was going to do needed to be done alone. Completely alone. "Lumos," she whispered. She held the wand light high and took in the familiar site around her. The small space had once been her residence before…before succumbing. Her eyes flicked over the corners and instantly remembered where it was.

She strode over to the farthest right corner. Falling to her knees, she simply stared down at the dirt floor. She lifted her wand over her head and let it float there, illuminating the space. Repeatedly, she had to keep herself from grabbing the wand and leaving. She leaned back on her heels, placing a hand on her face. Fixing her resolve, she took a deep breath then started digging.

Her nails felt nearly torn off as she continued into the packed dirt floor. A pile of soil sat next to a good-sized hole that nearly took up the corner. Finally, her fingers brushed against something. It was small, circular and solid. Carefully, she extracted it and brushed off the grime that clung to it. Slipping it on her left ring finger, she noticed how it still fit perfectly. The diamond in the middle sparkled under the wand light. It was like seeing it as she had the very first time.

_She giggled as she held her eyes shut. "Can I open them now?" she asked._

_"Not yet," answered a male voice. "Just be patient."_

_The midday sun shining in from the window was warm on her back. She bounced slightly on the bed she was sitting on. The one they shared since the refugees had flooded Hogwarts and space had become a precious commodity. Not that either of them had complained about having to make such a change. Quite the contrary…_

_"Remus," she started again, grinning, "when-" But a pair of lips stopped her constantly repeated question. _

_He said close to her ear, "Patience is a virtue. I'm nearly done."_

_Something soft started to touch her exposed skin. She could feel it falling slowly on her arms, legs, and face. Opening her hand, she caught one and felt the round, velvety surface. "Remus, now?"_

_Hands grabbed hers. "Now," he said._

_After having her eyes closed for so long, the sudden light caused her to squint, but the site around her quickly caused her eyes to widen. She gazed in wonder at what lay around her and continued to float down from the ceiling. A never-ending shower of rose petals. Red, white, and pink. She looked down at the red one she had caught earlier in her hand. "It's so beautiful," she whispered to him as he stood in front of her._

_He whipped out a whole red rose from behind him and gave it to her. "I thought you might like it."_

_She took it, and then gave him a slightly grinning confused look. "I do, but I don't know what the occasion is."_

_"It's not one yet," he answered and knelt down in front of the bed. "I'm going to make it one."_

_His hands found hers again. "Before you came into my life, I wasn't a very happy man; the days held nothing for me. But ever since you, it's as if I'm a new person. I can't wait to face the morning because I know you're there and I can't ever imagine me doing it without you. I guess what I'm trying to get at is…simply…I love you more than anything, more than I can even put into words."_

_He then reached down into his trousers' pocket and started to remove something and that was about the time it hit her. Flowers, kneeling, what he had said, and now… She brushed away the tears that trailed down her cheeks as he brought out a plain black box. _

_Not opening it, Remus paused to wipe at a fresh onslaught of waterworks and said jokingly, "Am I terrifying you that much?"_

_"No, no," she protested. "Go on."_

_With that, he raised the box's lid to reveal a simple, pale-metal ring with a single diamond in the center. "Hermione Granger, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"_

_Lost for words, she nodded before screaming out an enthusiastic, "Yes!" and throwing her arms around his neck. She could feel him laughing against her neck. Finally, after a flurry of kisses, he said, "Want me to put it on or shall you?"_

_She looked disbelieving down at the shiny light-colored ring. "Can you? I mean…"_

_He removed the ring from the box, took her hand, and slid it onto her ring finger as she murmured about how it was perfect. Giving her an amused expression, he said, "Trust me, I avoided the silver selections like the plague. White gold is absolutely harmless."_

_Gently, she leaned forward and removed flower petals that clung to his hair. A few stragglers meandered down now and then. "I love you," she whispered, letting the petals fall from her hands. Their lips met again and only broke apart as Remus muttered, "And I you," into her ear. _

_Standing up, he held out his hand to her. "Should we run off and tell everyone now or would you rather wait until supper?"_

_Grinning madly, she bounced off the bed and proclaimed, "Now." As she turned back toward the bed to shift through the layer of petals and find her rose to put in some water, something on the horizon caught her attention. "Remus…" she trailed off as she stared out over the Forbidden Forest._

_Dark, black shapes were approaching. He was by her side and his keener eyesight saw what she could not. "Dementors," he said. Then the trees of the forest swayed like grass in the wind. "Giants," he added softly._

_"He's here." She gripped the stem so hard that the thorns bit through her skin, not noticing the blood that covered her hand._

She refilled the hole with dirt and packed it back down with her shoe. The new weight on her finger felt odd yet right like it should be there. _You can't start now. It's too late. _Angrily, she swept out of the dingy cell and started back toward the stairs to leave, but a voice called out from down the hall.

"Hermione," someone said from a cell near the end.

Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned toward the sound. Fingers were beckoning her from the thin slot that could be found in each of the dungeon's doors. She debated briefly before dignifying his request by stalking down the corridor, ignoring the pleading that emanated from every direction. She stopped and stared expectantly into the darkened slit.

"Choose your words wisely. You've already messed up by addressing me. It's Granger," she warned icily.

A coughing sound could be heard and then a man's voice answered, "Alright, _Granger_," he emphasized the name, "I want to hear this from you. Rumors are hell down here. Did you do it? Did you kill him?"

"Which him?" she said testily.

"Lupin. Everyone says you did it, but I told them they were wrong. You may have gone sour and all, but I knew you couldn't have done that. You two were…"

"Not meant to be," she said through gritted teeth, cutting off his sentence. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it was me. His absence did not make my heart grow fonder and I rather think we're done here… What's your name?"

"Name's Dawlish. Greg Dawlish. Being held on conspiracy against the rightful governing body and attempt to overthrow it," he spat out.

"Enjoy your stay, Mr. Dawlish. I have a feeling it shall be a short one." She turned on her heels to leave.

His voice echoed down the hall at her. "I was with him, you know! Remus! He looked for you. Dammit, he dragged us all over the place for you. The last people captured from Hogwarts told him about you lying there bleeding and looking like death itself. They said you had died; nobody could have survived that. By the time we escaped and the grounds were clear for a sweep, nothing was left."

She stopped in her tracks. He continued, "Got you listening now, eh? Only things there were massive piles of bodies, charred from being burnt. No traces. Did you search him after you cut him down? You would have found a picture of you two. He looked at it every night. He loved-"

"Shut up," she roared as she spun around. With a violent swish of the wand, the Dawlish's door slot banged shut. Silence fell upon the dungeons with only the reverberating sound of a slammed door breaking it.

Soon she found herself in a room she frequented. The training room. She shrugged off her outer red robe and tapped a device at her side. "Pull," she barked at it. An object zoomed out and with a well-aimed wand motion, she sent it shattering into a million pieces. It quickly repaired itself. "Pull." Another flew out and again it exploded.

She continued in this fashion until she felt a pair of eyes on her. Tapping the machine, she heard it whirl and shut down. She turned to give the person behind her a stare of pure hatred. _So he's back_, she thought angrily. The man simply fixed her with his famous smirk before saying, "Finally without a soul, I see?"

"Don't lecture me about souls, Severus, seeing as you don't have one yourself," she pushed past him. "At least I didn't sell mine."

"That's a little unfair, but I'm not going to deny that I wished it had been me instead. However, it seems the Dark Lord has taken a liking to you and lets you have all the fun these days." He grabbed her arm as she started to seize her robe to leave. "Going so soon? I just got here."

"Let go of me," she said, staring up at his cold, black eyes.

"Why should-" But Snape did not get to finish his sentence since he had been sent sprawling backwards off his feet. Her silent _Impedimenta _had caught him by surprise.

"So you want to go," he said rubbing the back of his head. "Alright then, let's." He raised his wand and she crashed into the hard stonewall behind her.

One look into the training room caused the observer to quickly go elsewhere. A dueling duo was having it out and no one wanted to get between the two. They valued their life more than a quick bit of entertainment.

"Stay out of my mind, you bastard," she screeched. She could feel him trying to probe in, feel his way around to find out what spell she would use, and even the memory of that night. In retaliation, she uttered _Wingardium Leviosa_ in her mind and watched as he floated up to ceiling. She let him bounce against it for a bit before letting him fall back on the ground.

"I've had some lessons," she said down to him as he struggled to get up, "to keep people like you out." She enjoyed watching the grimaces cross his face. "Looks as if you're limited to old men and small children when it comes to fighting." Easily, she dodged a _Stupefy_ sent her way. "Especially, defenseless, weak old men. Must have been your proudest moment."

Snape looked up at her from the floor. Blood stained the inside of his mouth. It was vivid as he spoke to her. "Lovely ring you've dug up," he nodded toward her hand. "He must have held such meaning as you drained him of life. They said you did it with your specialty. How was that one last kiss with your werewolf?"

Grabbing his the front of his robes, she said low, "Shut up."

"What did you say?" She felt his wand pushing into her stomach, threatening.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. Don't talk about things you don't understand." Sensing a _Crucio_ from his mind, her own blazed out with _Expelliarmus_. The spell sent his wand bouncing off the far wall and him shooting backwards. She walked over to his still form and materialized a handkerchief from thin air. Throwing it down on his face, she said, "Welcome back."

As soon as she stepped out of the door, Flint hustled her down the hall into the briefing room. He did not say a word about Snape. She had a feeling no one would. "What is it now?" she asked, pulling her robe back over her jeans and tank top.

"A prominent leader in the vampire world isn't paying his dues. We've had reports that he's gone against the Master's wishes repeatedly. We need you to make an example of him. A little jab to the heart and a little message ought to do the trick. So," he trailed off, "have you ever been to a Russian vamp nightclub?"

**Moscow **

She was going to kill whoever picked out what she was wearing. The slightly chilly air that had invaded Moscow that night clung to her bare shoulders and exposed legs. Her black leather bustier continually cut off the flow of oxygen and the pleated plaid skirt was barely a piece of cloth. The only item that was of any use was the pair of knee-length, high-heeled black boots. That was only if she could whip out what she had stashed in them in time. Her lipstick was stashed far back in a drawer at her apartment. She never wanted to look at it again, not that it would have been any help this time. Vamps cannot die from poisoned kiss.

Tentatively, she placed a finger on her neck to check for a pulse. None. Flint had shown her a specialty glamour charm that caused her to appear quite dead looking. No pulse. No outward signs of breathing. Her newly enlarged canines though were rubbing into her lips. _There has to be an easier way to do this_, she thought. However according to Flint, the vampire she was going for, Ivan, was guarded heavily all the time and the only way to shake the guards was the get him alone. Completely alone. This entailed the use of her feminine wiles. She remembered the feeling of repulsion as Flint said, seriously, "He likes his women very…ah…rough and dominating, so feel free to be openly interested." After that, he had hastily shoved a whip at her; his face reddening and sent her on her way.

Feeling frozen, she approached the out of the way door, noticing the vampire mark discreetly carved above the door handle. She rapped on the entrance appropriately and gave a quick Russian password. As the man opened the door, the blaring music nearly knocked her over, but another sense was taking over that. Blood. The place reeked of it. It had been a long time since she had smelled it that appallingly strong.

_She stumbled over another body behind her. Parts of the ground had turned red from the carnage and she slipped briefly in a slick, blackish puddle of blood. Her pursuer took the moment of imbalance to fire another curse. Hastily, she yelled, "_Protego_." The shield bubbled around her, reflecting the curse back. _

_"Come on, little Mudblood. Don't you want to play?" laughed Bellatrix. A ravenous, mad grin crossed her heavy features as she sped up, giving no heed to the dead littered around them._

_The sun was setting low in the west and she was dead tired. Ever since the first assault, it had never stopped. Wave upon wave kept hitting the castle. She had already watched many, too many fall to a Death Eater's curse, ripped to shreds by giants, and a few wandering meaninglessly after a meeting with a dementor. Vampires were promised after nightfall. It had been ages since the last time she spotted Remus as he charged into a group of his fellow werewolves working for Voldemort. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to find him. Sometimes she wished they would just kill her and end it._

_Pulling herself together, she turned and fired a Body-Bind at the woman. Bellatrix blocked it easily and sent Hermione rolling in response until she landed with a thud against a tree. Before she could react, the older witch was on top of her, pinioning her to the ground and knocking her wand away. "Now," Bella leered down, "how about some fun. I'm not letting you go quick, Mudblood, no, I want to watch you bleed like a stuck pig."_

_She muttered down toward her wand. Swiftly, she ripped the upper part of the brown-haired witch's shirt, revealing her neck and collarbone. "Just a little design." With that, she pushed her wand onto the exposed skin, laughing as the other screamed. Like a knife, it cut through her flesh, leaving an oozing red trail. "Maybe," continued Bellatrix as she moved the wand point high along the collarbone, "I'll go all the way to your jugular. Not that it matters really. This," she smeared the crimson liquid between her fingers, "isn't going to stop. At least not in time for you to live."_

_Breathing was becoming a chore. She blinked hazily up at the evil Cheshire grin above her. Going into shock was inevitable and did not sound so bad at the moment. Another blink and instead of Bellatrix, all she saw was a gold-washed sky above. _I died_, was all she could think, but the pain still pervaded. A new face invaded her line of vision and she knew she had not died unless he had too or maybe angels looked like people you loved._

_"Oh my… Hermione," said Remus, his eyes wide and looking worse for the wear. "Don't be…don't be…" _

_She felt his hand rest against her neck, checking for life. Something metallic was in her throat, but she managed to mumble out, "Remus."_

_"Thank God." He took her hand and held his wand in the other. "You're going to be okay, Hermione. I'm going to patch this up the best I can and then get a Healer over here. Alright?"_

_"It's not," she took in a shallow breath. "It's not…"_

_He shushed her. "Don't talk. It's too much of a strain. Relax." He pulled off her outer robe and stuffed it behind her head. "Be still for me." Carefully, he held his wand in position and said an incantation over the wound. She could feel the heat radiating off of it and the way the liquid continued to come out, making her shirt heavy and damp._

_Remus stared down at the wound, glanced quickly at her, and yelled over his shoulder, "I need a Healer now!"_

_Turning his attention back to her, he rubbed her hand. "It's deeper than I thought. We'll have to wait on one of them. Where's my medic?" he finished in a roar, reverting to Muggle terms._

_An Auror running past them, stopped and said, "Sorry, Remus. The east side has taken a beating. Most are over there if they aren't dead by now. Harry and You-Know-Who are dueling and the Death Eaters are killing rampant to keep back reinforcements for him. That's where I'm headed." He gripped his wand and took off again._

_She saw his crestfallen look as he kneeled next to her. "It's not going to stop," she managed to say before he could hush her again. "Enchantment."_

_"Yes, it will," he answered determinedly. Ripping away a good portion of his shirt, Remus pressed it against the wound, but soon found the blue material turning dark with blood._

_Screams emitted to their left as a brilliant yellow light flared up. Echoes of "Harry" could be heard. Soon the same Auror appeared again, "Lupin. We need you. He can't hold out much longer."_

_"I can't," he faltered, looking anxiously down at her._

_The sky was turning darker. She could see a star above. Breathing took over her entire being. In, out, in, out. His face loomed over her again. "Hermione, I'll be back. Harry needs help; he's fading fast. Hold this on it," he put her hand on the soaked rag. "I swear to you I'll come back. Do you hear me, Hermione?" She could only squeeze his hand in response. He leaned down, gently held his cheek against hers before giving her a kiss and whispering, "Stay with me. I love you."_

_She felt his warm hand leave hers as he turned and ran toward the pale light that often exploded into her sight. Her arm rolled out from her and rested against something cold. The numbness in her mind barely registered that it was a cold somebody instead. Blankly, she stared up, not knowing if the dark of night finally overtook her or if she fell into oblivion._

Lifting her hand, she traced the scar from that day, now completely showing due to her outfit. The memories after that were a blur. A figure picking her up, proclaiming a 'live one', and asking what to do with it. Keep or burn? Then waking up to the shrill yells of a woman, asking why they had let her live. She was her kill. Her chest had hurt with a constant burning tightness. After that, there were only the dungeons. Only the endless darkness.

_This is not that time_, she chastised herself. Her eyes scanned the scene, the smell deadening as she became used to it. Most of the people were dancing erratically on a spotlighted-red center area. The rest were drinking at either the scattered tables or the front bar. She counted at the least ten men who were just standing around, looking threateningly. Guards. Now she knew their set up, all she had to do was find the target and get this over with.

She made her way to the front, ignoring the eyes that followed her. When one reached out a hand at her legs as she passed, the whip Flint had given her went flying. The guy hissed in pain and held his hand. "Look," she said to him, "but don't touch."

Holstering her weapon, she thought about once again how she would mutilate whoever dressed her like dominatrix-extraordinaire. Nevertheless, she conceded that everyone around her was in various states of black and undress as well. She went up to the bar and leaned back casually on it. The bartender tried to offer her a glass of what he promised as 'freshly drained A-positive.' Keeping her nausea in check, she waved him off and glanced up and down the row of chairs. Immediately, she recognized Ivan from the photos shown to her. He sat on the far end from her. His jet-black hair was visible over the shorter occupants. Unfortunately, she noticed a blonde-haired woman cuddling up to him, and he was already starting to pull away from his cup of blood to go with her.

_I didn't want to, but I'm going to have to be dramatic._ She pushed herself up onto the bar top. At once, whistles met her ascension. The men sitting there quickly moved their glasses to let her pass. She grinned cheekily down at them and glanced down to see that Ivan had stayed for the show. The blonde was pouting at his side. _Good boy_, she mused. _So, you like your girls rough. I'll see what I can do._ She strutted down the past the crowd in time with the pounding music. A daring fellow tried to put his hand up her skirt. He soon found a stiletto heel in his chest and fell over with a thud. She lifted a finger and shook it disapprovingly.

Her eyes were sharp for her next dupe. A shy looking man was hunkered over his nearly full glass and he avoided looking up. She bent down, lifting his face up at her. Putting a finger in his drink, she suggestively licked off the viscous liquid before kissing him full on the lips. She clicked her teeth in a play-bite motion as she left him with a stunned look on his face. Continuing her way toward the end and an even more interested Ivan, she cracked the whip over her head and brought it down on the man right next to the target.

"He was looking at me the wrong way," she said nonchalantly to Ivan as she sat down on the bar right in front of him.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" he said amused, his eyes roving over her. She resisted the urge to stake him right there.

"Just a little," she answered. Leaning in, she grabbed his shirt and kissed him. The blonde made a noise of disbelief behind them. She hung onto his bottom lip with her elongated teeth and gave the woman a mischievous grin.

Ivan quickly waved off the other woman. "There's rooms, if you'd like to continue this in private."

She could have sworn she gagged openly a little as she nodded and was led off toward the back. The huge bodyguards backed off as he shook his head as they tried to follow. Soon they were alone, behind a closed door, and far away from the action in the back of the building. All the better incase he screamed out.

Nothing serious had happened. Not that she was going to let it. He was under her and looking far too eager. Being above him gave her an advantage lest things started going down hill. Easier access to her boots. She grinned down at him before taking up where they had left off outside. He needed to get relaxed, comfortable, and distracted. She felt his hands tracing up her legs that were on either side of him. Soon though, he was trekking where he should not. His hands played with the side straps of what underwear she had been allotted. She flashed back to the last time anyone touched her there. _"No! Don't! No!" she screamed. _

Anger bubbled up in her. She leaned back and he stopped. "What's the matter?" he asked in his slight Russian brogue.

"Nothing," she cooed down at him. "Close your eyes."

Expecting something good, he complied. Deftly, she extracted a sharp, wooden stake from inside her right boot. "What is it?" he said roguishly.

"A little surprise," she answered and positioned the weapon over his heart. "Hope your not allergic to dust," she quipped.

"Wha-" he started, but she had brought down the stake with such force it stood upright in the couch cushions. She jumped back as he exploded into a pile of dust. Enjoying the moment briefly, she removed her wand from her other boot along with a slip of paper. She took a quick look out the door before locking it magically. Opening the paper, she traced the words on it into the air with her wand. They glittered red: _Here lies Ivan, who defied the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and had to pay for his transgressions_. She rolled her eyes; they really needed to get some different people writing these.

Pointing her wand at he couch, she burned her mark into it. A phoenix emerging from a skull. She stuffed her wand back into her boot, but left the stake where it was before marching out of the door. Winking at one of his men as she passed, she said, "He'll be out in a bit. Just needs to compose himself."

At the bar, she stopped to join a group drinking, thankfully, something other than blood. They looked like lost Muggles the doorman had let in as a joke since the rest where eyeing their necks. She signaled the bartender she would join them. A shot was sent her way. She tapped it on the bar with them before downing it. The clear liquid burned down her throat. Vodka. _Good choice. I needed a drink._ Then she disappeared out the door and down the street.

Wand out, she paused on a bridge to conjure up a coat and lengthen the skirt. Her teeth went back down to size and her vitals rejoined those of the living. As she clasped the metal rail, a dull chiming sound echoed. She looked down to see she still wore her engagement ring. It glowed under the waxing moon's light. The dungeons had been pushed from her mind. She took it off and examined it closely. Her ring. The thing she held on to the longest had been what she had to finally let go of.

_Slowly, she rocked back and forth on the dirt floor. It was unbearably cold and she grasped her legs tighter as if to keep out the chill. She could not see anything around her since they had shut the slot in the door, leaving her to dwell in darkness. They had just brought her back from the interrogation room. The name was a joke. Questioning was not the main activity going on in there. She timorously was trying to shake the effects of the _Crucio_ she had been under. The number of times she had been there was lost on her. She had stopped trying to keep count long ago as the days, sessions, and pain started running together. It was all for their fun and they had promised to not leave her alone for long._

_The air temperature dropped sharply as her breath became visible. Suddenly, she was back on the battlefield. Crying out, she pressed her hand over the scar. There he was over her again. "Hermione, I'll be back. Harry needs help; he's fading fast." His face swam above her. "I swear to you I'll come back. Do you hear me, Hermione?" He leaned down, gently held his cheek against hers before giving her a kiss and whispering, "Stay with me. I love you." She watched him get up and go away._

_"Don't leave," she cried aloud. "Don't leave me, Remus. Don't." She broke down into tears. _

_"Shut up, Mudblood," snapped a voice in front of her. Her cell door stood open. Several figures blocked the corridor light, but the one floating in the back took in a rattling breath. Her scar flared up again and she winced in pain. _

_"Take the dementor out of here," instructed the tallest in a cold voice. "Keep him close though, he'll visit our dear Miss Granger later."_

_She breathed easier as the figure floated out of sight; the world came back into focus. Voldemort motioned toward her. "Bring her closer. We need to have a little talk."_

_Roughly, the two burly Death Eaters grasped both her arms and flung her at his feet. She slowly rose from the floor to stand swaying in front of him. His minions held her up to keep her from collapsing. _

_"I have something I'd like to return to you," he said, taking out her ring from a pocket. She flayed toward him to get it back. How dare he take it? He grabbed hold of her left hand painfully hard and slipped it back onto her finger. Then he took a long, white finger and traced it down her face. "Engaged to your precious werewolf," he said lowly. "How quaint. Well, Granger, where is he now?"_

_He paused for her to take in his words. "I haven't had the pleasure of killing him, at least not yet. He's out there running around and looks like he's forgotten all about you. Shouldn't he have shown up for a gallant rescue by now? Perhaps he's found another young Mudblood to make howl in the night." _

_The Death Eaters chuckled stupidly. A heat flashed on her face; she would not grace them with tears again. In as strong voice as she could muster, "He'll come for me. He said-"_

_"Of course he did," he laughed. Then he waved a photo in front of her face. "Look. Right across the river, just a few days ago. He fled south before we could get him or his little band of men. Until he comes back," he snapped is fingers at the two men, "boys show our little Mudblood what her honeymoon would have been like." He swept out the door._

_She was pushed onto the floor. Hands were all over her. "No! Don't! No!" she screamed. Finally, she could not hold it in any longer and started sobbing as she heard the sound of a zipper. "Remus," she begged aloud before the one watching covered her mouth. _

_Back scrunched in her corner she was again. Her eyes though red held no more tears. They had none left to give. Her hands scraped at the dirt. Already one of her nails had been ripped half way off, but she was numb to the pain. The dementor had just left to feed off another cell and her scar continued to twinge. At last, she deemed the hole big enough. She pulled the ring off and dropped it in then pushed the dirt back over it. Patting down so it was even with the rest of the floor, she felt part of her die. Not that she had much left that was not already dead._

In one swift motion, she tore the ring from her finger and flung it off the bridge. "I was alive," she said softly. "Why didn't you come?" Into the black night, she screamed, "I was alive!" A noise behind her from an alley startled her. A homeless looking man shuffled farther into the shadows, obviously startled by her yell. She had overstayed her visit. Turning, she winked out from sight like a snuffed out star.

**London **

The field report was turned into Flint and she was going home to her apartment not far from headquarters. She unlocked the Muggle part before saying a long string of incantations to get past the magical barriers. Sighing, she entered and flipped on the light. She shrugged off the coat and hung it up. Making her way into the kitchen, she grabbed a box of pizza and slammed it onto the counter, feeling half-starved. As she opened the box, a piece of paper she had not noticed next to it caught her attention.

She looked cautiously around the kitchen before opening it. Her eyes widened as her ring fell out from between the folds. Quickly, she pulled out her wand and held it defensively. She looked down to read the note in a familiar handwriting. _Happy Anniversary. You lost this. _Below that written in hastily, _Thought you might like it back. _Involuntarily, she found herself shaking. A feeling came over her. Someone was watching her.


	3. Rendezvous Then I’m Through with You

**AN: **Full Title – Rendezvous Then I'm Through with You (_Inside Out_ – Eve 6). Yes, this is still a story! I was never going to abandon it, but all the reviews woke me up to the fact I needed to get back on this. :) Thanks. All for you! A little assistance, if you could, I've been thinking about rating this M, but I'm not sure. Please tell me what you think.

Now I'm lying on the table  
With everything you said  
Keep that in mind the way that it felt  
When the most I could do was to just blame myself  
I know, you know, everything

_Drop everything  
_I know you didn't mean it  
_Start it all over  
_I know you didn't mean it  
_Remember more than you'd like to forget _

_This Photograph is Proof (I Know, You Know) – _Taking Back Sunday

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?  
No one will ever change this animal I have become  
Help me believe it's not the real me  
Somebody help me tame this animal

_Animal I Have Become _– Three Days Grace

**London **

Her eyes scanned around the darkened apartment as she clutched the paper and ring in her free hand, pointing her wand threateningly with the other. The only light came from behind her in the kitchen; it was so weak it hardly spilled out any farther. Not that she needed to see to know that someone's eyes were following her every move. It was a sense.

"I know you're in here," she said, soft and dangerous. "Show yourself. Either way, you'll not be leaving here alive."

A disembodied voice, delayed in its response due to surprise over its blown cover, came from near her bedroom. "It would be unwise to kill me before you have even heard what I have to say." The familiarity of it was disturbing.

She paced closer to the spot she deduced where he was standing. She spat back, "I seriously doubt that."

"Then what is that in your hand? Hmmm…answer me that." The taunting nature of the answer instantly inflamed her already touchy temper. That's when she knew exactly who had dared step foot in her apartment and try to make a fool out of her.

"Lies," she hissed out. His outline was growing stronger as she closed in. Not to mention, a little, silent spell had increased her ability to see in the dark. The stark blonde hair was now easily visible. "Your specialty as always, Draco."

He seemed a taken back at her sudden use of his name, but smoothed over it. "No," his silky voice continued, "it's proof that what I say is true." He motioned automatically to her hand holding the ring and the note. "A little persuasion to get you to come back with me."

She figured he could see her well enough as his gaze matched her movements exactly. "You know I could kill you right now."

Draco remained unruffled. "Of course you could, Granger, but you won't, because if you had really wanted to, you would have done it sooner. Now surrender your wand and I can take you where you need to go."

That only caused her grip on her wand to tighten. "Am I supposed to fall for that one? Knowing you, this is probably just a set up to kill me. You're very apt at deception. I mean, who would have guessed your turn to the Light side with your history."

"Could I not say the same for you? A bloody staunch Gryffindor now a Death Eater killing her friends. Tsk tsk. You had us all fooled." His eyebrows shot up in amused irony. "Plus if he had ordered you dead, I'd have done it as soon as you stepped through that door. We have enough reasons to, but oddly enough he asked for you alive and untouched; you are to come with me…willingly."

"And if I don't?"

"What you have in your hand is to convince you otherwise." Once again he pointed to her clasped hand.

Following his gaze, her eyes quickly raked over the contents. A glint of the white gold flashed through her fingers, crinkling against the parchment. It could have all been fabricated. Anyone could have fished the jewelry out of that river or made a convincing attempt at his script. But what if it was true?

Silence pervaded. Picking up right where he left off, Draco added, "If you don't want to, then I guess, I'll just have to go back alone and tell him of your decision. He was so hoping you'd accept."

Not liking his tone of voice, she glanced swiftly at him before felling him with an unspoken Body-Bind. Draco had lost some of his ability to block people from his minds. He had gone soft. Striding over to his stiff body, she bent down low to his ear, a hand held to his throat, "If you are lying to me I swear," she pulled his head up threateningly and spoke the rest through her teeth, "they won't find enough of you even to bury. Are we in understanding? Do not play around about such things."

Standing up, she hauled him up with her. Her eyes locked on his, making sure that every next word was not forgotten. "No promises about what I might do? Alright? Don't try to pull anything stupid, Draco. I know what you're thinking." She pressed a finger to his temple.

Releasing him from her grasp and the spell, Draco coughed from her strong spell and hold before rising up from where he had fallen on the floor. "Well," he started, his face reflecting the fact he finally realized what he was dealing with, "nobody expected you to be one of kept promises. Dammit," he rubbed his chest, "just an agreement to come under a few of our safeguards. To maintain our secrecy and all."

Her mind was racing, debating on whether or not to take the risk, to jump. Her unyielding silence prompted Draco to continue his pitch, "Come on, Granger, you always were the impossibly curious one. I can tell you're just dying to know. What do you have to lose?"

At last, showing a sign of weakening, she said, nearly inaudible, "Everything." Abruptly, she dropped her wand to the floor and rolled it over to him. "No promises." Her eyes narrowed as he moved forward, right in front of her. His lopsided grin was one of conquest.

As he obscured her vision and everything went black, a bit of apprehension slipped in. She should have at least had a little more fun with him before agreeing, but…this seemed to be the only way. The Dark Lord had devoted years to the finding of the underground's strong holds, yet had failed. Now they were inviting her willingly. Her impression of what Draco was saying appeared sincere, at least he believed in what he said; her probes into his mind did not reveal any attempts to deceive her.

She remained calm as he bound her hands magically behind her; the enigmatic objects clutched tightly in between. As she held them, her mind kept trying to dismiss their existence. It could not be true. She had taken care of that; it was all in the past for good. Then why was she consenting to go with him?

"And here we go," muttered Draco, draping an arm over her shoulder.

They began to twist and turn out of sight; all the while she forecasted doom and amputation for his arm if he didn't remove it soon. But her words were cut short as a slight pop indicated their departure and they instantly reappeared elsewhere.

**Bristol **

Everything remained in the dark as her feet found solid ground once more. Promptly, she shrugged off Draco's arm and said venomously, "Secret's safe, now take this off. I'd rather like to see what I'm about to walk into."

"We're not actually inside yet, Granger. As soon as we get there, I'll take off the spell, until then…" He began to pull her forward and down a flight of stairs. "Patience."

Grudgingly, she allowed herself to be led by the elbow, keeping quiet, just planning out in excruciating detail the horrors for Draco when she got her wand back. No one spoke to her that way and lived to laugh about it later. The floor leveled out and he stopped her.

"Now, I'm taking it off." As he began the spell, a voice down the hall shouted, "Draco! You're back. Where have you been? Who's that…?" Feet started running toward them. He began trying to push her to the right, away from the noise. "Dammit…what are they doing up here? Dammit," he kept cursing under his breath.

"Oh my God…it's her," a woman's voice shrieked right in front of them. "What's she doing here? Why isn't she dead?"

The blindness was maddening. She wished he would hurry up and correct her vision so she could figure out what the hell was going on. Before she could snap at him again, he jumped in, apparently talking to whoever it was that showed up, "I'm on business, so I need all of you to clear out right now. You are not supposed to be on the upper levels at this hour. None of this concerns you."

"To hell it doesn't," a man this time said. "She killed my wife. It was her all along."

A firm hand grabbed her roughly and yanked her from Draco's grasp, taking her farther down the hall; her heels digging into the floor in protest. "Do you recognize me, you filthy traitor?" he asked, above Draco's protests, slamming her against the wall.

"Considering I can't see you, no, I'm afraid I don't," she deadpanned. "Please feel free to refresh my memory."

Having caught up with them, Draco's voice sounded from close by, "Let her go, Oliver, or I'll be forced to curse you. I told you, I'm under orders to take her to the boss."

A memory resurfaced. Oliver? Oliver Wood? Oh yes, his dear wife, Katie Bell, or rather Katie Wood, had been found to be smuggling wanted peoples out of Britain and to North America. She had to be dealt with and only one person had been called to take care of the problem. "She didn't beg for her life," she butted in, addressing the face she knew hung in front of her, "but she did beg for the life of her child. Why did you leave her alone that night, Oliver? Surely, you didn't think you had safeguarded the house to the best of your ability. Ah," a slight smile graced her features, "but you must have or else why would you have left your wife and two year-old son alone?"

"You bitch." He pulled her back and started to bash her repeatedly against the hard wall. Draco was yelling in the background as she fell blindly to the floor; the rest of the group, she deduced, must have been keeping him restrained. "He's four now and somehow remembers. Waking up, crying about a woman in black always after him."

She sensed the _Crucio _coming and did her best wandlessly to block it. No sound escaped her lips and her body barely twitched; Oliver seemed angered even more by her lack of showing any outward pain. He did not know that it took numerous times under that curse to not even scream, to not cry. But they didn't know. None of them knew. Holed up safe underground, rescued. They never lived through her hell. As the curse was lifted, she rolled over onto her back, regaining normal breathing.

"You have to mean it, Wood," she advised up to him. "You have to want me to feel so much pain that I'd rather give up and let it be over, that I'd rather just die. You just haven't got it in you. But come on try again. This time with a little more feeling."

"He's wrong about you," said Oliver contemptuously. "You're too far gone."

A new set of shoes clicked over the cold floor. It was the woman from earlier. She could recognize her slightly hysterical voice. "Is that all you're going to do, Oliver? After we find out she's the one who's been doing all of this? After she betrayed us over all these years?"

No response came; instead someone new grasped her shoulders, pulling her back to her feet. She still had on the stiletto boots and wobbled briefly on the thin heels. "If you won't kill her, I will," the woman directed toward where the group of onlookers must have been standing.

"Tonks," Draco shouted, "wait! Let him deal with her. This is none of yours battle. I'm supposed to–"

"Shut up, Draco. Since when was the last time you were so dedicated to a mission. He won't even miss her if he never knew she was here. Dressed like the little slut she is, probably _serving_ her master in more ways than one." She grasped a handful of her hair and said, "I don't need a wand to do this."

"_Nymphadora_," she answered, emphasizing her name. "What a lovely surprise. If only I could see what color your hair is today, but sadly, Draco still hasn't taken off his Obscuro charm."

She rolled with the punch that landed on her jaw, bracing herself with her still bound hands against the wall. The ring and paper fell to the floor as she had to open her hands. The tinkling of metal against concrete rang down the corridor.

"What is that?" snarled Tonks. "You were never worthy of this. Not then and especially not now." She could feel the breeze as Tonks apparently waved the ring in front of her. "You were never worthy of him."

"It was never for you to decide. Looks like even in my absence, you still failed," she growled back. "Now if you're done, Draco and I have plans." Surprising Tonks, she bumped her back with her upper body, advancing down the hall without the faintest idea of where she was going or even what was in front of her. She was wishing that dolt, Draco, would hurry up already. This was not what she came for. If she wanted a fight, she'd go pick on Snape. It was looking more and more like a setup.

"Not so fast." She got tackled from behind, promptly rolled over and pummeled in the face while Tonks screamed vulgarly down at her. She felt her lip split and blood run from it. Aiming her leg the best she could, she kneed Tonks who let out _oomph _and quickly moved off of her. The group could be heard coming down the hall at them, yelling. She started to crawl away, trying to get back on her feet when Tonks' hand grasped her ankle, pulling her back.

A fresh onslaught of punches and curses had begun as Tonks was being joined by others; a sharp heel to the face deterred one of them as she heard him howl in pain, trying to struggle against the clearly one-sided attack. _Where is Draco when you need him? _she thought dryly. _Probably took his wand._ Her head was thoroughly starting to ache and throb. She had a pretty high pain tolerance, but after awhile she knew she was going to pass out. That point was closing in as a new voice joined the fray.

"Stop," it said. Then louder, hoarsely, "Stop it! Don't hurt her." As if on command, all the hands reluctantly left her and she just lay on the floor. The figure stood next to her and continued, "Didn't I say she was not to be touched?"

Her body remained frozen to floor as that voice angrily reprimanded the group; she heard them scurry away. "I no longer need you, Draco. Give me her wand and that note on the floor." There was a pause. "Where is the ring?"

"Tonks," Draco said simply. "They jumped me."

"I'd imagine. But I asked you to be discreet." Arms were picking her up off the floor. She tried to wriggle away, but found it impossible under the circumstances. Tied hands. Lack of vision. Inability to talk. (Broken jaw by the feel of it.) Plus, she was beginning to slip away into unconsciousness. She barely heard what he said next, "I never actually thought she'd-" At that moment, her mind plunged into darkness, leaving her completely limp in his embrace. One she knew all too well.

She awoke in a much more comfortable position than earlier. The mattress she was laying on was lumpy, but much softer than concrete could have ever thought of being. In a testing manner, she moved her jaw from side to side and found it had been repaired. All around her was still dark which instantly pissed her off because she was tired of being deprived of the very important sense of sight. She refused to admit her own stupidity as the simple act of opening her eyes alleviated that problem. Everything remained in a dim shroud, but the outlines of the room were visible, a simple, sparse bedroom. She rubbed her freed wrists, taking that as a sign of pure foolishness, inviting her to take matters into her own hands once again, in a manner of speaking. Scanning the small space, she found she was the only one occupying it at the time, and feeling her alerts go down at that, she gingerly took time to touch her face. Nothing felt out of place or even injured, no pain came from the pressing. Someone had attended to her. Narrowing her gaze, she found a shadowed doorway and knew what lay in it.

Sitting up, she placed her hands on her knees and looked down at her still short skirt, knowing one man had been killed while she wore it. Would she make it two? Could she? Shattering the silence, she said, "No magic can bring back the dead."

"But it can bring back the near-to death," his voice answered. The same one that had come to her in dreams, the ones that plagued her, now worse than the memories of that final battle. That was nothing compared to when he emerged from the gloom to stand in relief from the candles that floated around. Like the night in the Shrieking Shack, that long night, when he had finally admitted his love for her. His inability to be without her and yet there he stood in front of her again, perfectly able to carry on. He was damn good at just carrying on.

Her face remained impassive; one could really learn a thing or two from Snape when he wasn't being a complete arrogant bastard. "I killed you, Remus," she affirmed to him, "if you even are him; Polyjuice isn't that hard to brew." She paused, sizing him up, "I saw the light leave your eyes. The other Death Eaters cleaned up afterwards; they all saw your dead body." She stood up. "There's no way in hell you should be standing there."

He moved closer, now fully encased in the candles' glow. His commonplace Muggle clothing clashed with her vamp nightwalker outfit. He looked no different from that time in the alley, except he now carried a souvenir from that encounter. Emblazoned on his cheek was the fading imprint of lips. Her lips. "When you try to poison someone, Hermione," she stiffened at her name, "make sure you administer the right amount."

"I did," she shot back, staring him down. None of this was registering. It was all too incredibly far-fetched, yet wasn't that the reason she came in the first place. To satisfy her curiosity?

Remus came closer to her, saying softly, "I know you didn't give me enough to kill me, nearly enough, but not quite. Ayes said you may have been also betting on my regeneration to kick in and help stave off the poison."

"Ayes?" she said skeptically. "His family has been nothing but a crop of loyal Death Eaters. I worked with him that day when I…" She trailed off, understanding what he was saying. How easy for him to take over the job of ensuring that Remus was in fact dead, to persuade his fellow Death Eaters to just go on home and let him handle it. But clearly instead of making sure no pulse was left and leaving Remus to be found horrifically murdered; it was clear he had dragged him off to safety. Of course, the underground would never flaunt the fact he lived; it would prove too dangerous for those involved.

"You are not the only ones with spies," Remus said as if reading her thoughts and then finishing them for her. "Thanks to him I was able to get the antidote in time. I was so close to the other side that I'm sure whoever was with you wouldn't have given me a second glance anyway. But if he had not been there, someone would have eventually found me."

Her brown eyes never left his dark gray ones as she casually leaned against the bed post. She didn't want him to see her shake, to see her weak. The shock was overwhelming. "Eventually is the key word. After seeing your group, or rather, being their punching bag today, I clearly overestimated them." She sighed for effect and said in mock wistfulness, "But a girl could hope."

"Are you saying what I think you are?" She wished he would stop his advance toward her; he had closed the space between them to under a yard. "That you really…"

"Alright, Remus," she cut in harshly, "do you want me to say it? Fine, I will. I really still have a bit of a soul left, a conscience. I'm sure that will be terribly disappointing for all of your little followers to hear." She did a brief imitation of Tonks, "'Granger, not soulless after all? How tragic…' Please don't spread it around too much. I have a reputation to maintain."

"That wasn't what I was going to say, but reassuring nevertheless." He was right in front of her; she had resorted to pushing her back into the post, her means of escape gone. Why hadn't she moved to the side? Why did she even have to open her mouth when a door was right in front of her? "Your feelings never left you, Hermione, did they? You could only suppress them so much, for so long, until he pushed you to the breaking point and they weren't so downtrodden, were they? Is that why you spared me? Something came alive inside you once again and you couldn't let it go…"

She raised herself up to her full height, using the boots as leverage. Her face, a mask, settled within inches of his. "I-don't-feel," she emphasized each word. "I am a shell: devoid of life, emotion and every other godforsaken remembrance of what I used to be. Don't even start to feel special because you survived; I miscalculated. Sorry, my fault. But don't you ever say," her finger pointed furiously at him, "that I feel. Don't you even try to understand." Her hands had balled themselves into fists and she suddenly began to pound them violently against his chest as if to relay what exactly she had experienced. Soon she was screaming along with her constant battering. "Don't! I don't!"

Her pace was slowing and Remus easily caught her fists and held them still. The tirade had brought a change about her as if it was the string pulling a curtain back to reveal a very tired and drained woman who could no longer look him in the eye. She tried to withdraw herself from his grasp, but he remained resolute. Unlike in the alley, at the moment, he was in control. "Remus," she locked gazes with him; her eyes held a dead, haunted look, "kill me. Put me out of my misery. God knows, no one else will."

He let her hands go, knowing that she wasn't going to raise them against him again or for the moment at least. They swung heavily to her side. Remus placed a hand on her left cheek, but she instantly pulled away at the touch. She eventually found no amount of turning or pulling away would help as he captured her other cheek in the same manner and held her still. "That's not the answer," he reasoned gently. Her eyes had returned to stare at the floor. "You can end this misery yourself, but not with suicide. Just stay here. Choose us." He lowered his head down to her level, his expression pleading. "Choose me."

If he really loved her enough, she felt he would do what she asked. It wasn't that hard. It was a mystery in itself that he hadn't already done it of his own freewill. She'd always known before any of this Remus was always different. Now she'd even venture to say he was a bit touched in the head. Her guard was down. Had she not let him touch her, _hold_ her? Was she losing her mind…? "Let me go," she commanded faintly. She had come so close to just letting go; it was too late. She had to keep telling herself. _Too late to start now._

Smugly, her features lit up in their old calculating ways, the façade that was always safe to wear. "Always the idealist, Remus." A joyless smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "I'd get my wish anyway if the reception from earlier is any indication. Simply turn me out to the wolves." Her own ironic statement made that grin wider. Her hands clasped the wrists that maintained their spot near her jaw. "I said, let me go."

"I have something for you first." He removed his hand from her face and she let go of his arm. Digging around in his pocket, he eventually retrieved her engagement ring. "It was taken from you during that disadvantaged position you were put in earlier." It easily slipped back onto her finger. "A little different than the first time I did that."

Neither the luminance of the stone nor the soft luster of the metal was lost in the poor lighting. It was mesmerizing to look at; it was like a gateway that opened to so many memories, both of happy and horrid times. "I buried this away a long time ago. I've buried you too many times." Her gaze finally left the ring to question him. "Why can't you just bury me?"

Remus was pulling something new from his pocket before unfurling a much worn out looking photograph; it depicted the two of them laughing and leaning on another, a little drunkenly, at a Christmas party. He kept trying to nuzzle her neck and the picture Hermione kept pushing him away with a giggle. "Because she," he pointed to the smiling woman in the frame, "is still in here." He placed his hand over her heart; thanks to her bustier, the contact was skin on skin, searing in the contact.

"No," she rejoined, shoving him in a way much different than that of the picture. "She's not." Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her wand lying idly nearby on a small table. Striding over, she reclaimed it and trained it on him. He looked stunned as if believing he was at last getting through to her and yet she continued to turn away. "I can't choose, Remus. That moment came and went ages ago. I'm bound." She pointed at her upper arm where the faint outlines of her Dark Mark were tattooed. "I gave up the ability to make decisions. It kept me alive."

He regarded her in silence. Not saying a word, he progressed at her defensive position. "Stop," she hissed at him, but a spell never hindered him. He did not halt until her wand was jabbing him in the stomach. "Kill me."

She looked at him as if he had gone mad. "What?" she managed to say.

"Decide, Hermione. To kill me or not to kill me. You've already made one choice tonight; you agreed to come here. Now make another. Prove you still can."

For once in a long time, someone had rendered her absolutely speechless. How stupid could he get? Inviting her here and then readily asking her to end his life. They weren't supposed to ask; they should be begging for mercy instead. "Don't tempt me again. I'll do it," she said resolutely, pressing the tip in farther for effect.

"Will you?" The question was plain enough. Yet she faltered. She was frozen in that moment. It was only broken by his hand once more finding its way to her face, caressing it. She closed her eyes to the touch, willing it away, pushing back against the wall. His thumb found her bottom lip and traced it. Remus whispered to her, "You've forgotten your lipstick tonight."

"And every night since I used it on you." He was able to push in closer as her wand went lax in her grip, except this time she rose up as he pulled her forward. Soon the weapon lay forgotten on the floor as the sound of their breathing filled the void between them. Her fingers touched where she had placed her kill mark; that cherry red lip print faded from that night. Her eyes flicked rapidly over his face, knowing exactly what was going to happen, knowing she wouldn't stop it. Those gray pools, full of expectation, were so near that what she said came out breathily, "Since I kissed you."

"Let's not leave it on that note." With that, he drew her head up to his level and paused as if expecting her at this point to try and end it, but when that did not happen, his lips claimed hers. This time there was no pain from the poison, no blood as it worked its way into his system, no betrayal. Only her allowing, letting her mouth open to grant him admittance. Their hands tangled in each other's hair.

In a little while, Remus had taken up loosening the laces that crisscrossed her abdomen, keeping her outfit snug. She had not even noticed him doing it, the action feeling like the natural thing to do, until the bustier fell away and he stopped his barrage on her neck to take in the sight. With only a barely there lacy strapless bra for coverage, her pale skin stood out in the dimness. Unlike the last time he had had this opportunity, her skin was marred by countless scars, some small and faint while others encircled from her stomach all the way to the small of her back. One that was visible before caught his full attention, the one that began below her collarbone and snaked up toward her neck. She stood firmly as he softened at the horrifying spectacle.

"The Dark Lord is very persuasive," she croaked out, her lips becoming flushed from all the action they were receiving.

He pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing what she already knew lay beneath. His own chest and back were as scarred as hers from numerous transformations and battles. He did not shy away from her disfiguration, but in its place he grabbed her around her bare waist, kissing the scar that he had been present for. The long white mark that he had not been able to heal that had seemed to etch itself on her heart. He wanted them both to disappear.

They paused briefly to remove their shoes as she took the longest with her knee-high boots. She didn't even notice the spare stake she had stuck in one clatter to the floor as her body eagerly returned to press itself against Remus. The unexpected chill of the floor hurried their way toward the bed. Their kisses became more rapid, more insistent, and more passionate; it was a release of tension, years of pent up emotions, all of the anger, confusion, hate, loneliness, their simple need expressed in this one instant. As if it would be the last time they would ever get the chance.

Remus made quick work of her skimpy skirt, finding the hidden zipper. He allowed her to undo his belt and trousers. She crawled backward on the bed, letting him follow her, still never breaking the contact. He stared down at her as he leaned on his arms that rested on either side of her. So different than the very first time. Back then she was so innocent, unsure and blushing like mad. The woman under him was battle hardened and scarred, her Death Mark an ink blot that stood out angrily against her smooth skin, all that beautiful innocence gone. Her words had haunted him from that fateful night in the alleyway; the condemning, the accusations, but mostly, her last words, whispered so softly through his pain he could barely hear her indistinct repentant words.

So few words. The only reason he had faith in tonight. In them.

Breaking the moment, he bent down, running a finger over her lower lip before trailing it down to the front clasp of her bra. He undid it and allowed her to free herself from it. She did not shy away from his eyes, technically it was not new to him, but as they rushed to fill the void between them and fully pressed their exposed bodies to one another, a heat flared up and coursed through them. For once, she knew she wanted nothing more than him at the moment; all those times for 'no' were gone, a distant memory, compared to what was happening at the moment. She was being a fool, she knew that. _What is it they always said? _Fools rush in. And then get themselves killed. They put everything in jeopardy. She couldn't help but laugh if Snape could see her now being so rash.

Inhibition gone, her hands roved over his torso, enjoying the feel of his skin and wiry muscles underneath her fingertips. They shortly found his boxers and discovered they were not restraining in any way, shape or form. She tugged on them and had to wait on his help before he could adequately remove them. Now all that separated them was her own lacy underwear, the very ones that bloody vampire had dared toy with earlier. Remus did not do the same; he gently removed them, being sensitive to her sudden tensing of their absence. Gods, the last time she had something like that happen, it was more like a savage rip, followed by a ravaging. Nothing loving, nothing tender. Only the want of her cheap flesh.

She was broken.

He knew that. The outside showed the physical torment, but the emotional and mental were hidden inside. In plain view tonight. He also knew she hated revealing it, especially to him. Ever so gently, he held her beneath him as she gradually relaxed, her legs loosing. As he settled between her, he watched her eyes clench shut as if to block out a memory. Remus kissed her eyelids to quell whatever it was and remind her it was only him.

So shattered, so damaged.

He wanted nothing more than to fix her.

To make her whole again. To breathe life back into her.

She was all he had left.

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Incessantly, she kept pressing her ear to the door in order to hear exactly what was going on inside. No one was supposed to be anywhere near his rooms at the moment; that was what had been handed down through the chain of command. As if she'd listened, she wasn't going to leave him with _her_ alone, not after what happened. She could repeat her previous deed and no one would ever know about it until it was too late. Their words were indistinct and she began to cast a charm in order to magnify the volume, but a hand on her shoulder caused her to start and twirl around.

"Tonks," said Draco, drawling out her name, "I don't believe you are supposed to be here. I really don't remember Remus asking any of us to eavesdrop on his conversation."

"What gives you any more right to be here than me?" she shot back, mad that she had been interrupted. She had not forgotten who had also been sent to retrieve the engagement ring. One that should have been hers. The only reason she forked it over was Remus' face peering down the hallway at her. She could never say 'no' to him.

"I was simply asked to find you. Now that I have, I'm to bring you back." He made to grab her arm, but she jerked it away in time. She looked furiously at him, her hair flaming red. "My wand has been returned to me. Don't make me use force." He showed her the proof as he whipped it out from his robe pocket.

Draco waving around a wand and threatening did not faze Tonks; he did it on a daily basis. She scoffed at him then at the door. "Do you really think that all that is going on in there is just a 'conversation'? She's probably strangling him to death as we speak! We can't trust her. After everything she's done, I can't believe he is even considering…I mean…she tried to kill him."

"Strangulation is doubtful," mused Draco, a few shouts were coming through the wood though. "I'm quite sure he took her wand in there with him. Won't be too hard for her to get that back." He raised his eyebrows. "Lupin is a funny fellow. He took me in after what happened to my family; he took in a lot of people no one ever thought deserved the right." He could not help but plaster his infamous smug expression on his face as he said, "Plus, he loves her. Makes him want to try all the harder with her."

That set Tonks off just like he knew it would. Her face instantly flushed in anger, matching her choppily cut fiery hair. "How can he even consider loving her? That…that…thing which has been going around masquerading under our noses, killing off countless people aiding our cause. Impossible! When I have been here the whole time, I, who has never left his side in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named –"

"Everyone has their breaking point," Draco cut her off softly. He did not want Remus to hear them outside and have to investigate. "Nobody could have stayed in there as long as her and not come out changed or, as in her case, completely changed. How long could you have carried on if you thought everyone had either died or left you behind?"

"But," countered Tonks, already preparing an opposing statement, "shouldn't the thought of Harry's death and Ron's, plus all those others we called friends, have motivated her to go against that creature that had caused it? The monster that destroyed all of our lives. Why is she so special that she gets this chance? If it had been anyone else…we'd have…"

She stopped as Draco held a finger to his lips for her to stop and then followed it as it pointed toward the doorway. A louder noise was emitting from beyond the door. Someone was crying out. Not in pain necessarily, but in pleasure. Presently, another voice, a much deeper and masculine one, joined the other. Draco's eyes were trained on hers and he simply could not help himself; Tonks had been falling stupidly over Remus for years and would not realize he would never see her the same way he saw the woman to whom he was making love to at the moment, the one whose name he was calling out. "What sort of 'conversation' would you call that, Tonks? Still want to call it strangulation because I really don't think people make that noise when that sort of thing is happening to them? Unless you're into something a bit kinkier…"

"Shut up, Draco." She furiously wiped away a tear that ran down her cheek. "Don't you ever know when to shut the bloody hell up?" With that she turned her back on him and stalked off in the opposite direction, wanting nothing more than to scrub her ears and brain clean of those horrid sounds from earlier. She was back for one night and already…already… Tonks could feel the waterworks building up and fled faster.

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Against her better judgment, she found herself being dragged unwillingly into sleep. 'Don't fall asleep with enemies around you' was surely high up in the rules for keeping oneself alive. But then again, she was on a roll with things that would probably end up killing her, so why deny the simple pleasure of slumber? Her eyes only closed when she was assured of his drifting off and of the fact he had locked the entrance. She had not slept in over a day and his added warmth only caused her to slip into oblivion that much faster.

He did not know how long he watched her while she slept. Amazingly to him, her face smoothed out as she dozed as if she had not a care in the world. One could almost venture to call it a serene expression, if she could ever obtain that. All her worries washed away, she looked so much younger, like she had before the war, before her capture. Before too long though, a grimace distorted that vision as something invisible to him caused her torment. Remus wanted to reach out and run a finger over her furrowed brow to calm her down. But she rolled over away from him before he ever had a chance.

Now all he could see was the brutal pattern crisscrossing down her shoulders and spreading over her back. Her hair obscured some of it; the thick russet curls streaming out behind her. The ones not too long ago he had had his fingers entwined in. Tentatively, he held a strand between his fingers, reveling in its soft, silky texture. He brushed back the tendrils that had fallen off the pillow to expose more of her back. A particularly gruesome pair of scars was on her sides, near her hips. It looked as if someone had sunk their fingers into her skin so hard that the nails had broken through, leaving a perfect set on each side. He could only imagine as to what they had been doing to her when that had occurred. Unexpectedly, she began to shake in her sleep.

Drawing closer to her, he completely moved her hair back and softly placed a kiss in the curve where her shoulder met her neck. Not stilling, he wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her back to rest against his chest. He would have never dared such a move while she was awake or were not in obvious need. Even with all that had transpired, she continued to be unpredictable and volatile and he did not want to push her too far, too fast. Amid the movement, she was stirring in wakefulness. At first, she stiffened at the close contact, however relaxed, realizing it was only him and not something from her dreams come to life. Huskily, he murmured her name between kissing down her shoulder. He was pleasantly surprised as her hand bent back, actually encouraging him on as she sleepily tousled his hair.

Trapped underneath his arm, she came to rest again on her other side now facing him, looking him over. A smile never graced her features, only a thoughtful expression. "Now what?" Hardly any words, yet they spoke magnitudes.

"That's not my question to answer." He paused. Sometimes she was infuriatingly hard to get a read on. "I know where I stand. You only need to figure out where you do."

She finally grinned, incredulously, as if she found it funny that he could believe that. "You think I can stay here? I'm quite clearly not wanted alive. You can't keep them at bay forever. Not to mention, they'd only think you were keeping me around for the bed sport."

Cheeky little wench. At least, they had never managed to beat that out of her.

"But you can't go back. Not after…"

"I can always go back, Remus. Always. The Dark Lord does not kill one as productive as me for just scampering off for a romp with the enemy. Sure, if he finds out where I've been, it's going to hurt, but not so much if I revealed your location. If I sold you out."

His arm flew off her as he realized what she had been at all along. It wasn't redemption; she was here to give her fellow Death Eaters a chance to wipe them out. She knew immediately what thoughts crossed his mind as he rejected her touch and looked at her as if he saw her for the first time. "Hell, Remus," she interjected before he actually pushed himself off the bed in this state, "if I were going to do that, I would have done it already. Alright?" She propped herself up on one elbow. "I'm not. Remus," her fingers brushed his shoulder, "I won't."

"Then why do you say things like that? This is not the time for careless words, Hermione; you of all people should know. Trust is hard to foster in times like these. I want nothing more than to have that again with you, but you make it so difficult. Why?"

He did not flinch under the warm weight of her arm on him; his gaze remained steady and trained on her. "Haven't you ever noticed it's always easier to break things into a million pieces than to try and put all the little bits back together? I've learned it's just less painful to do the shattering than to stick around and clean things up. I was just conveying the fact that I've easier options than the one I'm making right now. The one that's keeping me in this bed."

Reclaiming his hold on her, Remus held her close to him once again. Her head rested on his bare chest as he ran a quick hand through her hair occasionally. "I don't care for any of them," she whispered. "I can't change that, Remus, not even for you. They are all pathetically self-righteous and undeservingly so; I know most of them did not venture back to Hogwarts. None of them have ever seen the true horrors of the Dark Lord and they dare judge me for coming out alive under the circumstances." She sighed uncertainly. "You are going to be the death of me."

"I think we are going to be the death of each other if we keep this up." He had meant it as a joke, but they both quieted at the significance of the statement. Would this relationship prove to be what ultimately ended their lives? Past experience pointed to 'yes'. How could it go on after everything that had transpired?

Breaking the stillness, she asked, "Where are we in exactly? You couldn't have built this complex yourself."

"Muggle bunker. A military storehouse left over from the war. Very handy to hide fugitives."

Abruptly, she asked, "When did you start following me?"

He was ever so slowly running a hand up and down her spine; she was resisting the urge to shiver. As she looked back, it was so obvious someone had been trailing her. She had been too preoccupied and inattentive to be fully aware of it. "As soon as I was able to. At first, I convinced myself that I was doing it trying to find the opportune moment to enact revenge, but the more that became known to me about that night, the less that lie held together. Every time I saw you, I couldn't bare the thought, so then I followed you waiting for another opportune moment. One where I could approach you, because no matter how well you think you hid it from others I could see that you were afraid, ready to break. I just kept waiting."

A bit of anger tinged her voice. "Scared?" Waving it off, she continued, "What time did that opportunity knock? I really don't recall this moment."

" Moscow. I watched you throw your ring off a bridge and I heard what you said. I knew then. So I retrieved it from the waters and found it ironic when I remembered the date. I sent it to you the way we always got materials from one another. And waited to see what you'd do."

"And here I am," she finished for him. "Against my better judgment and the knowledge that this endangers everything that has managed to keep me alive…"

"Yet you haven't moved an inch," reflected Remus aloud.

"You're a good toss in bed," she groused, taking up a less heavy tone from her earlier assertion. "Is that what you were waiting for me to admit? Not that I'm saying this beats that one time we ended up in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and on top of your desk. I-" Her words ended shortly as she quickly grasped her upper arm and breathed in deeply. A hiss of pain escaped her lips as she sat up completely with Remus following suit.

"What is it?" he asked hurriedly.

"He's calling," she panted out, "and he's rightly pissed off." Revealing her Mark, it now was completely black, a moving skull and snake that kept telling her that she was wanted. Her master was calling. Wrapping up in one of the bed sheets, she slid off the bed.

"Where are you going?" Remus' own legs were venturing to touch the floor; he looked ready to tackle her.

She rolled her eyes; he was so…so…Remus, defender of his little hovel. "Take it easy, Remus. I'm not going to him, no matter how long this thing burns. I doubt he'd appreciate me showing up in a bed sheet anyway, much less after shagging a resistance leader. He tends to frown on such behavior. I was getting up to look for some tea. Got a spot?"

It was hard to see her as a real threat as she stood swathed in a navy sheet, barefooted and disheveled hair, asking for a cup of tea. Looks could be so deceiving. Remus found his boxers strewn haphazardly from before and put them on. He padded over to her and pulled out a kettle along with a tin of tea bags from a lonely cabinet. He busied himself about fixing it as she plunked down in one of the room's few chairs that sat clustered around a beaten table. She stared pointedly at the door, knowing someone was pressing their ear to it. The shadow under the door and the slight pressure that kept unsettling it gave whoever it was away. She could guess who it was on the first try.

As Remus sat a teacup clinking down on the table, she grasped his chin and brought him down to her level. She crushed her lips against his and although that caught him off guard, he did not resist, instead stroked her cheek and deepened the kiss. She intoxicated him, even after everything that had transpired. On the other hand, she was hoping Tonks was enjoying the show. If you're going in for the kill, you might as well go for the heart. The door was now unlocked thanks to her and it stood slightly ajar, just as she had planned. Breaking apart, she asked Remus, "Can I borrow a shirt? I can't run around starkers. I'm afraid that could garner me some unwanted attention."

"Only a shirt? What about the rest of you?" he asked, unable to keep the amusement from his voice.

"I think I have enough material with my clothes to transfigure them into trousers. Besides, I thought I could wear one of yours for old times' sake."

Remus nodded then took a sip of his tea before exiting out a side door, presumably the rest of his living quarters. She bored holes into the door with her gaze upon his leaving. Tonks had been watching them, she was sure of it. "It's terribly impolite to snoop around like that, Tonks. Might as well come in and make yourself at home." She calmly sat her teacup down as the other actually accepted her invitation and entered the room quietly. Tonks' face pinched up as she shot daggers with her blue eyes at the other, the damn trespasser on what she considered hers.

A stare off ensued as they eyed each other uneasily. "You are such a whore," Tonks finally spat out. "Coming in here as if nothing had ever happened, like we are just going to forget what you've done…"

The brunette held up a hand, a skeptical expression on her face. "Excuse me; I didn't realize that being raped made a person a whore. I rather protested every time they held me down and tore off my clothes, but I interrupted you, didn't I? Well," she waved her hand, "please continue."

"You can't play the victim anymore, not after you made everyone else one." Tonks glared reproachfully at the sheet being used as clothing. "You bewitched him, didn't you? There is no other explanation for his actions. Remus would never behave in such a manner; he knows what's at stake. He knows exactly what you are. You showed your true colors when you tried to kill him."

"You found me out," she said with chilled delight in her voice. "I bewitched his pants right off of him. Oh dear," her eyes widened in mock shock, "I just lied to make you feel better. He actually took his pants off quite willingly. Now I'm being honest. What a change this place brings about me."

Tonks' glare narrowed further and her hand grasped her wand, but even in her fit of rage, she became to back off as she saw with horror that the other also had possession of her wand. Tonks lapsed into silence, contemplating the best way to enact vengeance and to also make it out alive.

Taking another sip from her rapidly cooling tea, she asked, "Do you know what power tools are?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" shot back the redhead.

"You did not answer me. Do you know…?"

Her response flew severely from her mouth. "Yes, I know about the Muggle contraptions. What about them?"

The seated woman's gaze became far off as she spoke, "They had raided a Muggle's house, killing them all, but they had found some very interesting things. A power drill," she ticked them on her fingers, "belt sander, a jigsaw, a few other novelties, other items from the Muggle carpenter." She held her hands up, wrists pointed toward Tonks. "They were particularly fond of the drill and all the varying bits for it. They tested all the sizes on me." Neat rows of circles in differing diameters pocked her skin. "They'd repair the skin, but leave the pain, so they wouldn't have a bloody canvas for the next day." She lowered the sheet to reveal a lower part of her back where a shiny smooth piece of skin stood out. "Belt sander." Then lifted it to show her leg which had a crude design carved into it. "Jigsaw."

Tonks was now avoiding her gaze, but spoke up nonetheless, "Am I supposed to feel pity for you? Anyone here would have died rather than succumb to him." Her head rose up in boldness. "You were weak."

"Tell me. When would you have passed out?" She cocked her head slightly to the side, asking her to reply. "At first, I couldn't make it past the third drill bit, but then I managed to be conscious for the entire set. They were amused with those for the longest time." A cold grin crossed her lips. "Right before that they had an obsession with a newly discovered skin separating spell. They'd strip you naked, sometimes alone and occasionally with a group to further the humiliation." She looked down at her arm and gave her skin a small tug. "Skin has amazing elasticity; it could separate from the muscles, from your body and stretch outward for a ways until it finally broke."

She enjoyed the disgusted grimace that lit up Tonks' delicate face. That had shut her up effectively enough. No one called her weak. Her body and mind had gone through more than her little brain could ever dare imagine. Softly, the hardness gone from her voice, she said toward the side door, "Remus, I'm done if you'd like to rejoin us."

He cautiously stepped out from the shadows, holding a plain green shirt in his left hand and his wand in the other, fully clothed himself. She rose, flicking her clothes into her outstretched palm, not looking at Tonks who remained rooted to the same spot on the floor. Passing by her, she crossed over to Remus and took the shirt from his grasp. "We were just having a little talk. Catching up on everything we've missed." He looked worriedly from one to the other. "No worries, I'm finished with her," she added quietly. "I'm going to get dressed now. Thanks for the shirt."

She left the two as Remus began to have words with Tonks about how she was not to be down on that particular floor or to come into his quarters. Tonks argued back how she had been invited in. He called out her foolishness at entering a room with someone as dangerous and impulsive as her. Although, he felt his life was not in any danger, he could not vouch for the safety of everyone else. Then how could he even conceive bringing something like her there anyway? She heard a door shut violently with Remus telling Tonks to not even try to understand the current circumstances.

Entering the bathroom, their voices died down. The sheet dropped to the floor and she began to put on the clothes provided and merged her former outfit to create a simple pair of blue jeans. The image reflected back in the cracked mirror almost could have passed for her during her days at Hogwarts. Except she had never held the troubled appearance that hung around her now. The Dark Mark also obscured the vision of her former self in the reflection. It began to contort more so than earlier, causing her to grasp it hard as if to lessen the pain. His calling was incessant; it felt like it was burning deeper and deeper into her flesh. She brought back her hand and stared down at it slick with her blood.

"Shit."

Not wasting any time, she ran back into his room and flew past Remus. She began shoving her feet back into her boots, paying no mind to the stream of blood that ran down her arm. Remus made his way over to her, confusion etched all over his face. He took in the sight of the blood that now dripped off her elbow and into a pool on the floor. He grabbed the nearest material and pressed it to her arm. "Hermione, what's going on? Your Mark. I've never seen one…"

"You wouldn't have," she said back, "because by the time you saw that person, they would have been dead. He's coming for me." She fingered her ring briefly before locking gazes with him. "He knows. It's his little way of telling me, daring me to run. Taunting me with that knowledge." She stood up hurriedly, letting his makeshift bandage fall away to the floor. "I have to leave. I need to leave right now."

"Wait," he seized her uninjured arm, halting her move to the door. "This place is well protected. He won't be able to find it, he can't get in."

She smiled a little at his reassurances. "I'm sorry, Remus, but I think he's been in my mind. That is enough for him. I can't stay here. I told you I'm bound to him. He owns me and he's coming to lay claim. I will not be here when that happens. Let me do you one last favor and keep you alive by going." She wrestled her arm from his grip and ripped open the door to an empty corridor, wand at the ready.

"Hermione," he called after her as she nearly ran down the hall. He looked so forlorn that she found herself backtracking and gave him one last kiss. Her eyelids fluttering open, her breathing was heavy as she backed up again and remade her way to the exit. A trail of blood spatters marked her path while she ascended toward the surface. She could hear his heavy footsteps behind her which only caused her to quicken her pace. She had to get out of there and out into the open to Apparate some place else. To get Voldemort and his hounds to divert their attention to her new location before they stumbled upon this one.

She had to curse a few people hanging around the upper level to let her pass. Flying up the steps, she found the heavy double doors above her head and struggled at first to get them to heed her wishes and open. Finally, she emerged on a plain filled with deadened tall grasses and a swirling gray sky above. "Hermione, stop!" Remus yelled at her from below. She let the doors slam shut behind her; one day he would understand why, one day he would realize he was better off without her and her constant threat of death. Not just for her, but also for him if he hung around.

As if on cue lightning slashed across the sky and silent figures began to materialize around her in a circle, cutting off her means of escape. She tried to Apparate out, but found they were blocking her. One of them stepped forward and removed his mask. The sneering face of Severus Snape leered down at her as he made his way toward her. His face was twisted in rage. Apparently, he had not forgotten the thorough beating she had given him not too long ago.

"You were called," he said simply.

"I hadn't noticed," she answered. At that, he grasped her bloody arm hard and pressed his thumb into her raw Dark Mark. She gritted her teeth at the pain.

He smirked down at her. "It's a little hard not to notice that. He'll be along shortly to take care of you. Defiance is not acceptable in this organization."

She found her wand to be pointless; it was as if the group was solely concentrated at containing her magic. "Always braver with somebody backing you, Snape. Come on, Sevvie; don't tell me you're scared of me. I find this whole sapping my energy bit a little underhanded. Are you that afraid of what I could do to you?"

His breathing was coming heavily through his nose, making a nasally whistling noise. "I am to wait on the Dark Lord," he said tersely.

"Always waiting. Grow some, Severus, and just kill me yourself! I'm just a defenseless little girl right now."

A loud banging broke through the storms raging. Someone was trying as she had earlier to get the heavy metal doors to open; the ones that none of the Death Eaters had paid any mind to, until now. Her head instinctively swiveled toward the noise. "Your werewolf, I presume." She glared at him. "Master can see many things when he wants to, especially when one of his follower's minds is relaxed. You've been able to keep him out for quite some time, he called it impressive, but you slipped up. He said you couldn't help yourself as you moaned out his name, as you matched his motions. Sounded like you had quite a ride."

"More than you ever got," she snapped. Suddenly, she used her wand as a physical weapon, jabbing him violently in the stomach before kicking his feet out from under him. Spinning, she began to sprint toward the door she knew none of them could see; she had to keep him from getting out. The group rippled at the changing development and she took the uncertain moment to fire off a few curses in order to blast a hole so she could escape. Regaining their senses, they turned on her.

The door was opening. She had to shut it. That's all she could think about. Her wand out, she began a locking charm, but an enraged voice thundered from behind her, "Sectumsempra! SECTUMSEMPRA!"

The first time it hit her it caused her to twirl around with its force, angry red slashes on her back showing through her shirt. As she spun around, the second ripped across her face, arms, and torso. Blood was spurting everywhere. She staggered backwards and collapsed onto the grass; her wand had fallen away uselessly. That bastard Snape had cursed her with her back turned. She began to shake as the red torrents gushed from her torn body. Next to her someone stepped up from inside the ground. She had not succeeded.

He was trying to drag her back inside. Soon more people emerged from within the earth, shouting hexes and curses to keep the group of Death Eaters at bay. Remus cradled her head in his lap as the group rushed out onto the field of battle. None of them gave her a backward glance. He kept talking to her, kept trying a spell to knit together the slash wounds. The ground was slick with blood except this time it was all hers. A cold drop hit her forehead; he must be crying. Through the haze, she could tell he was, but it had also started to rain. The clouds were releasing their pent-up loads.

The skin tried to reseal itself; she could feel it stretching. Everything was going black. She beckoned him down with a slight motion of her hand. "Like old times," she gurgled out. He did not look amused by what she said. "Except this time…"

Then she stopped.

Her hand fell away, limp to the ground.

She wasn't breathing anymore.

Giving out a strangled cry, Remus gathered her up in his arms, clutching her to his chest. He could not control the sobs that wracked his body as he clung to her lifeless body, running a hand through her wet hair as the rain continued to pour down. Nothing around him was registering anymore. Not the battle, not the bright lights of spells as they flew around him, not even the appearance of a chalk white figure. He could only focus on the once beautiful woman that he held, now gone, a survivor in every sense, finally beaten. She had come back to him. To him! And now…

His eyes lifted to see that pale thin man seemingly floating over to his crumpled position on the ground. Remus never released his hold on her nor even moved while Voldemort stopped in front of him. It was all so pointless. Life. Everyone only died in it. They all died and left him alone. His hair was now plastered to his forehead as the Dark Lord bent down in front of him.

"Dead," he whispered as he moved back a piece of her hair to reveal her calm face; Remus pulled back to keep him from touching her. "Might as well join her."

Remus did not even attempt to dodge as the green light rushed toward him. It was as if he could not longer properly feel his body anymore; he was numb. He placed a soft kiss on her chilled lips; his eyes closed as he felt the spell hit in his chest. He fell over dead in the same position.

Only their lack of breathing betrayed the fact they were no longer part of the living. If one had simply glanced at them in passing, they would have seen two people, laying in each others arms, sharing a quick kiss. Nothing more. But the rest of the bodies that littered the ground destroyed that illusion. The rain had washed away the blood that had spilled out all over the plain.

No one was left in the compound below.

A green glittering Dark Mark snaked its way above the carnage. The skull with its mouth wide open and the serpent slithering out from it. Except for once, it was battling for space in the sky as another symbol glittered above the sight. A shimmery red skull, also with its mouth gaping, had a phoenix emerging from it; its plumage ablaze.

It had burst forth in a final show for its mistress; she had planned it since day one, knowing full well that her occupation would lead to her ultimate demise. Initially meant as a sign of defiance to her killers, now it symbolized what the birds had long been associated with. An animal of rebirth, of new beginnings.

No matter how short lived such renewal had been.

Whether it is a year, a month, a week, or even only one day.


End file.
